


I can't see past my own nose, I'm seeing everything in slo-mo

by AshSPN



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Don't know what for, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, SETH'S INSECURE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSPN/pseuds/AshSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers push against the mirror, the glass smooth and slightly slick under his skin as he rubs them over his own reflection. It was conflicting, really, hearing so many negative comments from strangers when he also has an earful of people telling him he looked pretty.</p><p>Filled for a prompt on Tumblr: ambrollins: seth being insecure about his nose and dean telling him how much he loves it</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can't see past my own nose, I'm seeing everything in slo-mo

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, another prompt out. I hope to keep the flow going, honestly. Hope you guys enjoy, this is actually pretty fluffy.

The air in the bathroom was muggy from a well-deserved hot shower, the steam still clinging to the air and keeping it moist. The mirror was fogged to the point where nothing could be made out, but it seems the longer the shower is off, the lighter the fog becomes. That doesn’t stop Seth from wiping a rag across the mirror a few times, just to clear the glass a bit faster. It was the night after a house show, in which he had gone through a table at a weird angle, so a shower was the only thing on his mind when he got back to the hotel. It had worked wonders, honestly, all his muscles much less tense and his neck not hurting nearly as much now. Ibuprofen would definitely be the next thing he heads for after this.

As he throws the rag to the side now, he risk a glance at himself in the mirror. Just a single look has him grimacing, because it was after 2AM, and after midnight always turned into one of _those_ nights. One of _those_ nights entails Seth’s mind filling with dark words that make him want to hide from himself; one of _those_ nights entails too much time spend looking in the mirror and mapping out all of his flaws. That little voice is always there, telling Seth he would never be perfect, but on these nights, it was in the forefront, making sure Seth believed it.

For years, he had heard so many people bragging about being on TV. He had grown up listening to his friends mention something about how their dad’s cousin knew someone who was on the news. He had gotten into wrestling and all the guys would talk about is how they would be in the WWE one day, on that big screen, how everyone would know their name. It seems good. Hell, it _is_ good. The fame, the fortune, the fans… But no one really warns you about the bad stuff that comes with being on TV. No one warns you about the bad stuff that comes with the fame and the fans portion.

When you have such a large crowd of people looking at you on a weekly basis, sometimes multiple times a week? You get the people who decide to point out every little detail. You look tired? Someone’s going to point it out. Think you’re wearing makeup? Someone’s going to make a tweet about it. Someone doesn’t like one of your features? It’s going to be brought to your attention. One of people’s favorite things to bright up about Seth is his _nose_.

It’s not like it wasn’t something he had gotten his entire life, honestly. People are vile creatures. They are horrendous and rude, but he had learned to allow their words to just bounce off of him. Now though, hearing it so often from so many people… It got him looking and he could _see_. It was on nights like this that he would look at himself and think there was nothing else to see. His mind zones in onto it and it’s telling him that he would _never_ be the perfect superstar that the WWE needed. He would just get thrown to the side soon, because he wasn’t the poster boy John Cena was.

His fingers push against the mirror, the glass smooth and slightly slick under his skin as he rubs them over his own reflection. It was conflicting, really, hearing so many negative comments from strangers when he also has an earful of people telling him he looked _pretty_. He grimaces, staring into his own reflection’s eyes. He wasn’t pretty…

“What’s taking you so fucking long?” Dean’s voice comes through the door, breaking Seth’s focus from his self-hatred to where he heard the doorknob turning. He blushes heavily despite himself as Dean comes into the hotel bathroom. He pauses and visibly drinks in the sight of Seth in a towel, teeth pulling at his bottom lip before speaking again. “You still haven’t gotten dressed?” He motions to the sweatpants Seth had brought in with him.

Seth shakes his head, glancing back at the mirror and wincing, lowering his chin to his chest so he looks at the floor instead. Fuck, how could Dean even stand to look at Seth when he could have so much _better_? How could Dean even stand to look at Seth when he was so… His brows knit together, not looking up from the floor. He hears Dean’s feet on the tile floor before he sees them in his vision.

A finger hooks under his chin and pulls his head up again, forcing Seth to look Dean in the eye, even though he really didn’t want to. Dean could always find exactly what he was looking for in Seth’s eyes. Seth could never hide anything from him. Their gazes meet, Dean’s searching and Seth’s filled with god-knows-what. “You okay, baby?” Dean whispers to him after a moment, his tone soft and careful. Seth hesitates, because he doesn’t like lying to Dean when they’re not on the job; not in the ring. He doesn’t like lying when they’re alone, because he’s doing so much to gain that trust back. He forces himself to shake his head, to tell the truth, even if he doesn’t want to. “What’s going on, Princess?”

That comment makes Seth bristle some, pushing Dean’s hand away from his face, forcing himself to shrug now. He turns his back to Dean, planning on grabbing his sweatpants now. God, he hates when Dean does that. He hates when he just fucking-… Tension leaves Seth again when Dean’s finger is dragging down his spine, pausing only to trace the characters of his tattoo. He breathes slowly, then speaks in a low whisper. “I… How do you even stand looking at me sometimes?” He asks, looking over and into the mirror, finding Dean’s gaze on him, blue eyes confused. “Have you even looked at me? And I mean my face. Not my body or-or anything else. My face.”

“Uh, yeah?” Dean answers, his voice still showing that confusion he feels, arching a brow. “You think I’ve been so busy looking at your ass that I haven’t made it up that far or something? Because I have.”

Seth ducks his head, jaw working on the words that he was testing in his mind, trying to play out how this conversation could go it he just said it. “I hate my nose,” he finally decides on saying, deciding it would be the best way to go about this. He might as well get it out in the open early, because Dean wouldn’t stop until he knew what was wrong. He still stares down at the white tiles of the floor, at his own bare feet, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. “I always have, and it’s just… It makes me look so fucking bad. I hate it.”

“Seth,” Dean is murmuring, almost immediately after Seth is talking, already going to comfort him. Seth thinks he’s going to wrap his arms around him, but he turns Seth’s body to face him instead. It’s several moments of quiet before Seth is looking up, startled by how serious Dean’s eyes were. “You’re a fucking idiot if you have any doubt that you’re _beautiful_ ,” Dean huffs out at him, “And you’re a fucking idiot if you think that your nose _of all the things_ is the thing that bothers me the most. Let’s forget all about the fact that you lied to me and betrayed me and Ro. Let’s forget you smashed my head into cinder blocks. No, it’s definitely the fact that your nose is just a little abnormal that makes me hate you.”

Seth fidgets as Dean continues to stare at him, his mouth working but no words coming out.

“You, Seth Rollins, are _perfect_ , you hear me? Every part of you is absolutely perfect. And just so you fucking know, I happen to love your nose. It’s one of the things that I like most about you. The first time I saw you, Mr. Tyler Black in the indies on some video someone was showing me, I noticed it. And the thing is, you’re fucking pretty, Seth. I know you don’t want to admit it, but you fucking are. But I remember seeing you the first time and I remember knowing you would make to be big. You would be perfect, and that fucking nose of yours? It made you _real_ , Seth. It makes you real. I don’t see professional body builder who was bred to be a poster boy. I see indie wrestler who worked his way to the top and doesn’t have to be fucking perfect to everyone to get shit done.” His hands cup around Seth’s cheeks. “But you’re still fucking perfect to me. And I don’t know what’s gotten into your head to get you thinking like this, but you’re going to go in there and you’re going to sleep it off, you understand?” Dean half-demands, Seth only nodding because he has no idea what else to do. His tongue is tied behind his lips. Dean glares at him for another moment before he’s pressing a gentle kiss to Seth’s nose, then another to his lips, filling Seth with a certain warmth. “Now look at yourself and tell yourself you’re perfect.”

“What?” Seth squawks out at the sudden and random order, but Dean is already grabbing his chin and turning his head towards the mirror with a ‘ _do it_.’ Seth stares at himself for a moment, eyes wide, lips pursed slightly with the way Dean squeezes his chin. The voice in his head tells him not to lie to himself, but Dean’s loosening fingers prompt him. “I’m perfect.”

Dean nods, releasing Seth and pushing him towards the hotel room. “Damn right you are. Now, go get in bed. You took too long, so you don’t get to wear clothes tonight. I still need to take a shower because a _perfect someone_ forgot he wasn’t the only one who went through a table.” Upon Seth’s guilty pout, Dean kisses him again. “I love you. Go get some sleep before you get even more depressed. And I mean it, no clothes.”

Seth huffs out a soft laugh, but he kisses Dean again, nodding. “Okay. I love you too.”

“You better,” Dean jokes, a soft smile coming to his face before he places another kiss to Seth’s nose, “Princess Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it! c: 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always nice. I will probably crow my thanks at you if you leave a nice comment ;w;


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